


A Strange Case of Identity

by melanchloly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Poetry, Gen, Poetry, Slam Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 01:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12519708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanchloly/pseuds/melanchloly
Summary: A riddle of sorts. Test your wits if you dare.





	A Strange Case of Identity

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a gift to Una Stubbs at October's Sherlocked convention 2017 & decided to publish it in celebration of Mark Gatiss' birthday today (at the point of writing).
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in my stories. Rather, they belong to the brilliant Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for birthing them, both Mark Gatiss and Steve Moffat for modernising them, and the various talented actors and actresses for giving them life. This story is not Brit-picked and so, non-British expressions are used here as well.
> 
> A/N: I'm no poet but the idea just came to me and I thought why not? Hope you fruitloops enjoy it!
> 
> Please leave a review to let me know what you think! I rarely get feedback on my writing so it'd make me really happy if you do so. Thanks.

Two words.  
Not. Dead.  
No, don’t flip me the bird.  
I mean exactly what I said.

Once treated as an unfeeling specimen,  
Other times, an ‘extra’ on the scene.  
I was swept off by a certain gentleman  
Who, I’m sure, you’re very familiar with.

I was his ex-best friend, his only friend.  
The only one privy to his deductions.  
We used to go out on cases, even on weekends.  
Without me, he would make a big production.

While I sat there listening,  
He would think aloud, pacing back and forth.  
At times, he can get annoying.  
But I always smile at him with warmth.

Because no other can appreciate a genius such as he!  
His prudent exaction of evidence from the crime scene  
Though ruthless, it hardly compromises accuracy.  
A brilliant mind and soul, but some call him a machine. 

His landlady never minded me much.  
In fact she liked my quiet manners.  
Probably because I never needed lunch  
And my flatmate never drove me bananas.

Those were the good times we had  
I love him more than anyone knows  
Although he is indeed a bit mad.  
But then… it was another he chose.

Relegated back to the background  
Once again, as a silent witness.  
I can’t help but pine like a hound  
All I can feel is sadness.

I don’t suppose the man noticed  
He never cared for sentiment.  
Now that the doctor is his closest,  
In his heart, I’m no longer a resident.

It’s sad to have the spotlight taken  
By the Baker Street Boys.  
In fact, I’m a tad shaken  
But let’s get real, I’m just a toy.

Oh right. I see you’re confused.  
No I’m not John. I have no sexuality.  
Nay, I’m not the lover Sherlock refused.  
Nice try, I’m not even Moriarty.

Who am I? And what’s my name?  
Why, I don’t even know myself.  
I’ve none that I can rightfully claim,  
I’m just the skull sitting on the shelf.


End file.
